Guitar
by H.dollz
Summary: Laura's always thought of her friendship with Ross as totally platonic. That is, until she sees the way he makes love to his guitar on stage and finds herself wishing she could take it's place. Raura/Threeshot/PWP.
1. Chapter 1

**Guitar**

* * *

It was 10 at night. And it was loud.

His fingers worked their way across the strings quickly, with no hesitation. His hips rolled with the pleasure, the heat, the thrill of the moment. His shifted his weight from one leg to the other, bobbing his head to the beat. His shook his head, letting the hair flop out of his face He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and he was grinning, his forearms tensing, his muscles clenching.

He was in the zone. This was where he loved to be.

This was where I liked to be, too. Not on stage of course; in the wings. Watching, cheering him on, enjoying the little glances he gave me every so often as if making sure I was still there.

He liked that I came along to watch the concerts; almost as much as I liked coming to watch the concerts.

And I did. Like coming to watch him, I mean. And the rest of the band, of course. But there was something about Ross...

A flash of lacy pink lingerie was all I saw before the bra landed on Ross' shoulder. I saw him throw his head back in laughter, searching for who had thrown it and winking at her. An orgasmic scream was the result.

Turning, not for the first time, to look at me, he picked it off his shoulder and threw it at me instead. Glad that where I was standing, I couldn't be seen, I rolled my eyes and tossed it onto the floor. It was a shame it wasn't my size. It was a cute bra.

I watched his fingers work the guitar strings, and I could feel it happening; the slack-jawed admiration that always crept in whenever I came out to his shows. The intense pride - the burning desire.

It was always a mixture of these things, and they only served to make the actual desire that much stronger.

Long story short; I was jealous of Ross' guitar.

Even as I watched, I saw him stroke his hands over the neck, his teeth wedged in his bottom lip as he played it with a mixture of reverence and adoration, his hips nearly grinding against it.

God, I wanted to be that guitar.

I was aware that if I ever expressed this... jealousy, there was a chance of strange stares and of the end of my friendship with Ross altogether because it was crazy, right? To be envious of an inanimate object?

I didn't even care anymore.

Guitar solo.

Ross dropped to his knees, utterly consumed by the music, playing his solo, his head back. And when it was done, and Riker was singing, his mouth was open and from the bottom of the neck of the guitar to the top, he was gliding his tongue - wet and pink - against.

I choked and even staggered a little, a small whimper escaping me.

The security guard next to me gave me a look. I tried to laugh it off. His face remained blank.

Fuck, I wanted him. More that I had ever wanted anyone. I couldn't help but think of the consequences; the fact that if we did anything, our friendship could fall apart afterwards. Fuck and Forget was not a system I operated with.

I sighed, and looked back, and he was on his feet again and his hips were just fucking _gyrating_ against the instrument and I swear to God I heard him moan.

I gave the security guard a _I'm gonna just go _sign, and he nodded, handing me the keys to the lounge room.

I sighed and marched over, key in my sweaty palm, making plans about when and where I could change my underwear because they were soaked.

_Okay, so if you can get someone to drive you over to Target or something, you can get underwear there... Wait, is there a Target near here?... Of course, there's Target's everywhere... But how am I going to explain my underwear emergency?_

I shook my head, trying to clear, trying not to think of Ross' tongue and how good I bet it'd feel against things other than his guitar, and how sweaty he was, and how upset he'd be when he inevitably glanced into the wings again and saw that I wasn't there... And how the freaking lounge key wasn't opening the lounge door...

Gah. I had been trying to stick the key into the lock for the past minute. My plan was to wait in the lounge until the boys and Rydel were done freshening up and whatever in their dressing rooms and then to hijack someone - definitely not Ross - and get them to bring me to Target.

I sighed in frustration, raising the key to m face to read the tiny writing on it.

_Room 103._

Well done, Mr. Security Guard, you couldn't even give me the right key.

I started to go back to the wing I'd come from to get the right key, but remembered Ross and his shitdamn guitar.

Annoyed and flustered and more than a little damp, I began my search for Room 103.

I stomped through the halls, looking at room numbers, yearning for Ross to treat me like he treated his damn guitar, consequences be damned.

I found the room eventually, jamming my key in the lock and turning, flicking on the lights as I stepped in. I heard a loud, husky voice in the distance, telling the audience how much they were appreciated, and I could tell the concert was winding down.

The room looked pretty much like a dressing room, with clothes hung on a silver rack and a table with a mirror and everything. I slumped down into a comfortable-looking couch and waited.

One minute... Two...

The sounds of their voices, loud and excited in the halls.

Three minutes... Four...

A very familiar voice outside my door.

I turned to look He stepped in, amusement on his face, a bottle of water in his hand, nothing but a pair of ripped jeans and sneakers on his body.

He cocked his head to the side. "Laura? What're you doing in my dressing room?"

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**Review and I might put up the second part just that bit sooner ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Guitar**

* * *

_I turned to look He stepped in, amusement on his face, a bottle of water in his hand, nothing but a pair of ripped jeans and sneakers on his body._

_He cocked his head to the side. "Laura? What're you doing in my dressing room?"_

I exhaled shakily.

"Um, nothing. I -I didn't mean to-" I stop and try again. "I mean, the security guard-" Fuck, come on, Laura, use your words. "Does this place was wifi?"

_Dammit, not _those_ words._

One of his eyebrows arch. "Wifi? Yeah, probably." He steps towards me. "Are you okay? You're shaking."

_And the fact that you're getting a little closer to me every second is not helping._

I find myself taking a step backwards every time he steps forwards, stumbling over things I can't see because I'm not looking. His gaze is fixated on me, and the corner of his mouth is lifted in a smirk he's trying to hide.

"Ross," I croak when I feel the cool, hard surface of a wall behind me, and see the _warm, _hard surface of his chest in front of me. I swallow. "I have to... go."

He pouts. "Why?"

I shake my head.

"Lady problems; you wouldn't understa-"

"Don't lie to me, Laura."

He folds his arms over his chest, his muscles rippling in a way that makes me want to beg him to take me. I settle for a mumbled 'sorry' and sidle to the side, making for the door.

He's faster, grabbing my wrist before I've even taken two steps.

He pulls me to face him while I struggle feebly. I look at the ground, scared that if he sees my face, he might guess-

"Tell me what's wrong." he pleads. When I don't answer, he sighs and runs his other hand through his hair. "I looked into the wings after a while. You weren't there." Another pause as he waits for me to reply. I don't. I can't.

"Laura," he says finally, in a stern, frustrated panty-dropping tone. "What is it? What has you all... flustered?"

"You." I manage to say before I can stop myself. I wince, bracing myself for his shock and probable disgust.

"Me," he repeats; not as a question, but as if he's trying to figure out just what I mean.

"You." I say again, a little louder. "It's just... everything about you. The way you talk and walk. Even the way you drink your water." He waits as I pause, waiting for me to say something that makes sense. I don't. I keep my eyes on the high-heels I was wearing.

"I feel like I'm missing something here." he says eventually. His thumb presses against the inside of my wrist, rubbing it in small soothing circles. My teeth wedge into my lip.

"You turn me on, Ross," I say eventually, hating how vulnerable I sound. This is it. No going back now.

He pauses, his thumb stilling. I can feel his eyes on me, practically burning into your skin.

"I turn you on," he repeats. I can hear the smile in his voice. I can feel his finger, under my chin, lifting my face upwards to look at him.

"A little," I whisper so quietly I can barely hear it.

A little.

My absolutely soaked panties begged to differ.

Ross basically turned me into the equivalent of a horny 14-year-old boy, who became instantly aroused whenever anyone did anything sexual.

"The way I drink water?" he questions, his voice husky.

I close my eyes. "Yeah,"

He doesn't say anything for a while. My eyes go back to the floor. We stand in silence for only a few seconds, but it feels like hours. Eventually, I pull my hand out of his grasp and make for the door. He doesn't stop me.

I grab the doorknob, longing for privacy so I can cry in peace, and then I hear his voice.

"Laur?" I pause. He says nothing more. I turn around.

There's a sly smirk on his face as he twists the bottle cap off of the bottle of water he had placed on the table. My breath hitches and I take him in, the sheen of sweat covering him, the arc of his eyebrows, his messy mop of blond hair, the way his perfect, pink lips are lifted at one side.

He cocks his head to the side, and his eyes trail over my body like he's doing exactly what I'm doing.

I don't realize what he _is _doing until it's too late.

He raises the bottle in a mock toast to me.

"Don't," I plead.

He tosses the bottle cap to one side, tilting the water to his lips and drinking.

He tilts his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulps the liquid down, gargling the last mouthful before swallowing it.

My teeth capture my bottom lip so fiercely I'm sure I've drawn blood. Even then, I find myself whimpering softly. I hope he hasn't hear it. His satisfied smirk tells me he has.

I find myself holding onto the doorknob and not being able to open it as he approaches me.

_What is he doing? Why?_

When he's close enough that I can feel his cool breath on my face, he murmurs, "I like seeing you flustered like this. It's unbelievably hot."

I'm nearly panting as he pushes an arm against the door on one side of my head, his face even close to mine. "Tell me more about how I turn you on,"

I think I would be willing to do anything for him, at that point.

"Your guitar," I pant. "Watching you play it..." I trail off. He leans closer, his nose brushing against mine.

"You like that?" he wonders, his stare burning into mine. I nod, almost frantically.

"Yes,"

His other hand pushes a lock of hair out of my face, then trails down my cheek, my neck, my back... and locks the door.

The small _click _sounds very loud in the silence. He brings his gaze back to meet mine.

"Tell me why you left," he demands.

It takes me a while to find the words to answer. My panties are officially absolutely useless. I rub my thighs together, desperate for any kind of release. He notices his, and, withing an instant, his knee is between my legs, holding them open, rubbing against my soaked core in a way that has my legs close to giving out.

"Oh God." I whimper, my hands going from my sides to his neck. I fight the urge to rock my hips against him, and it proves more and more difficult every second.

I can feel him watching me, hungrily, and the look in his eyes just pushes me closer to the edge.

I move my hips, back and forth, and I hear him moan softly. His lips are tantalizingly close to mine, so close...

His hand comes down on my thigh, holding me still. The only sound in the room is our breathing, heavy and labored.

"Why did you leave, Laura?" For a few seconds, all I can comprehend is the frustrating loss of friction. Then my brain starts working again.

"I c - couldn't stay," I stammer. "You were... and that guitar... and ... _you know_." I was aware I wasn't making much sense, but he seemed to understand. And even though he understood, he seemed okay with torturing me further.

"No," he replies, his lips against my ear now. "I don't think I do."

I take a deep breath. I don't know if it's lust or the fact that I'm pretty sure I'm dreaming or a sudden rush of courage, but I grab his hand and bring it to where my dress is bunched up around my waist, pressing my fingertips over my more-than-soaked panties.

I force myself not to make a sound as I feel his lips freeze their actions on the area below my neck, his breathing stopping. He strokes softly, and then moans loudly, burying his face in my neck.

"Holy fuck," he groans, positioning his thumb over my clit and rubbing. I squirm, my breath coming in quick, ragged pants.

Holy fuck indeed.

* * *

**Mkay so I don't think I'm even going to try to write twoshots anymore because they ALWAYS BECOME THREESHOTS.**

**I'm not doing this on purpose to tease you or anything (okay maybe a little) but it's just that it doesn't feel write to have all the smut in one chapter, you know?**

**So I'd just like to say, thank you for 80 reviews and I love you for reading x **


	3. Chapter 3

**Guitar**

* * *

His thumb brushed against my now swollen clit again and again and again and my legs were totally limp and useless, and I was now covered in a sheen of sweat, like him.

His lips, against my neck, kissed along where my pulse was beating frantically. I could feel his long, deep breaths against my neck.

I swallowed.

Long... Deep...

"So fucking wet..." he groans before tugging on the hem of my panties and letting them snap back into place. "Who're you wet for, Laura?"

My hands were on his shoulders, my eyes shut. "You," I manage to pant.

He moves both of his hands to my waist, lifting me so my legs are wrapped around his waist, my feet no longer on the ground. My eyes flicker open only to flicker closed against as his lips crash against mine.

I feel total release as his tongue slides wet against my own, my back pressed against the door, his hands helping my core grind against the obvious bulge in his jeans.

His hands hold me tightly by my waist, rocking me slowly back and forth, creating a mini inferno. He pulls away from the kiss to look me in the eye.

I can barely concentrate, whimpering as his movement of my hips ceases. He chuckles lowly, a smirk on his face.

"Laura?"

"Mm?"

"You want me. Right?"

I nod, my cheeks heating up a little.

"You're sure," he confirms, his gaze very serious. Before I can nod again, he continues, "Because this isn't going to be gently, Laura, I can promise you that."

"Yes," I groan, trying to hold his gaze. "_Yes. Please._"_  
_

Before I fully know what's happening, he has carried me to the large dressing table, and sat me down on top of it. His forehead against mine, his lips just out of reach, he hooked his thumbs in my panties, tugging them off my body. He tugged a little too hard, apparently; there was a ripping sound and he flung them to the floor.

I honestly couldn't care less.

He left my heels on, taking my legs by the ankles and spreading them.

I threw my head against the mirror behind me as he just fucking _looked. _That in its own was a huge tease.

My hips bucked as I felt his breath against me. His hand moved to my lower stomach, holding me down as his tongue trailed over my slit.

And I remember his guitar and I look down at his tongue and I can feel myself starting to fall over the edge.

My hands grab fistfuls of his hair as he laughs quietly, then trails his tongue through my folds, carefully avoiding my clit. Within seconds, I'm moaning and whining, the world 'please' falling from my lips repeatedly.

"Hmm?" he murmurs, his voice innocent. "Please what?"

"Stop teasing," I gasp as his tongue finds my clit.

I'm not going to last long, that much is obvious.

He traps the small bundle of nerves between his teeth, flicking the tip over and over with his tongue, slowly pushing a finger into me and fucking me with it.

I gasp, pulling his hair harder, but if it hurts, he doesn't complain.

He adds another finger to join the first one, moving them faster, curling them, until-

_Fuck._

"OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod - Ross, I'm - _fuck_!"

He doesn't stop as I ride out my orgasm, hips bucking, toes curling. Quite the opposite - he wraps his lips around my clit, adds a third finger, and lets his gaze meet mine as he hums softly, the vibrations pushing me over the edge for the second time.

"_Ross_," I gasp, arching my back, thighs around his head and over his shoulders.

"Like that?" he smirks, his trailing from my entrance to my clit.

"Yes," I whimper, my legs shaking and absolutely useless. "God, yes."

He stands, lifting my chin and bringing my lips to his. He pulls my dress over my head and flings it away, moaning at the feeling of my breasts against his chest.

"No bra?"

I shake my head, pulling down the zipper of his jeans, pressing it against him so he feels the vibrations. He hisses in pleasure, then kicks the jeans off, along with his boxers.

My eyes travel down his sculpted chest and stop at his length. Length, being the operative word.

As I watch, his cock twitches. I reach out and take him in my hand, earning a pleasure-filled groan. I run my thumb over the leaking head and he throbs in my hand.

"I did that?" I whisper, disbelievingly.

"I don't just sport wood like this for no reason," he tells me, his voice strained as I rub my thumb over his tip, ducking his head and taking a nipple between his lips.

I gasp, squeezing him a little harder. A stuttered "fuck" escapes his as he looks at me.

"On your knees. Now."

I'm on the floor within seconds, looking up at him. His hair is even messier now, his lips parted in pleasure as he strokes himself.

I'm mewling like a fucking cat as he take my hair in his hand and twists it around his fist, guiding me so my lips brush against his tip.

His hand tightens in my hair, and I part my lips, swirling my tongue around his head.

He pushes his hips forward until most of his is in my mouth. I stroke the base with my hands, bobbing my head, feeling like I would do anything and everything to make him feel good.

The room is silent apart from his groans and the sloppy sound of my lips around his cock. He keeps my hair out of my face, his eyes on me.

I squeeze his base, taking him as far into my mouth as I can, stopping when I feel him hit my throat and holding him there for a while.

His breathing stutters and he pulls my hair harder.

"Laura, _fuck_,"

He raises his other hands, pressing his thumb against my cheek so he can feel himself moving from the outside, too.

Tired of squeezing my thighs together for relief, I spread them, rubbing a finger against my clit, my moans vibrating around him.

Still fisting my hair, he pulls my head backwards. He falls out of my mouth with a _pop_.

He pulls my head up to look at him.

"Did I give you permission to touch yourself?" He asks, eyebrows raised.

_Holy fuck why is this turning me on. _

I shake my head no, and I get a gruff "get up" in reply.

The minute I'm standing, he turns me around, bending me over the table so fast it knocks the breath out of me.

I make a nest for my head to rest in with my arms as he rubs his cock over my slit.

By the fourth stroke, I can't take it anymore. I've never been more aware of how empty I feel.

"Ross..." I plead.

Stroking his cock against my clit, he murmurs, "What is it, Laura?"

I wiggle my hips. "You know..."

"Hmm," he hums. I can hear the smile in his voice. "you want me to fuck you?"

I gasp as he stops at my entrance, slowly pushing into me.

"Yes," I pant. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes..."

With a quick move of his hips, he's inside me, filling me completely. My head falls against the table as I let out a moan close to a scream. I hear his exhale loudly, hands tight on my hips.

He doesn't give any time to adjust, slamming into me quickly, setting up a rhythm that has me sobbing his name.

He has my hair in his fist again, pulling my head upwards so I'm looking at the mirror in front of me, so I can see him.

My eyes are hooded, my cheeks flushed, swollen lips parted. He watches my face, his eyes on the mirror as he takes me, hard and fast and so fucking deep.

I look back over my shoulder at him, and his hand trails over my ass cheek. His eyes on mine, he lifts a hand up and brings it back down hard.

"Oh, God," I whimper, rocking my hips against him, slowly first, and then faster, harder, helping him fuck me.

His thrusts become faster, harsher, and he rolls his hips, hitting spots I didn't even know existed.

"So fucking _tight_," he groans, his palm coming down on my ass hard enough to sting.

I can feel myself edging closer and closer to the edge of the cliff, and I feel like I need to brace myself for the fall.

"Ross, I'm gonna come," I gasp, and he stills his movement, buried deep inside me, and then grabbing my hips and flipping me onto my back.

His eyes trail over my body, then to my eyes.

"You are so fucking beautiful, Laur." he says, his voice strong.

I just smile and move my hand to rub my clit.

He just shakes his head, the ghost of a smirk on his lips and he pushes my hand out of the way and does the job himself. Within seconds, my back is arched off the table, my nails scratching at his back.

"Ross," I pause as his thrusts become messier, and I feel him pulsing inside me, signalling that he's close too.

His fingers pick up their pace on my swollen bundle of nerves. "You gonna come for me, Laura?" he mumbles against my neck. I can only whine in reply.

"Fuck, Ross, I'm coming, I'm-" I'm cut off by his lips on mine, muffling my moans, and also muffling his as I feel him reach his own nirvana.

He stills inside me for a few seconds, and we're both panting and sweating like we've run a marathon.

He lips are against my neck. I feel him laughing quietly.

"What?" I ask, my voice raw and exhausted.

"Jealous of a guitar..." he trails off as I blush.

"You don't see yourself when you're up there with it," I mumble. "You practically make love to it."

"Like I just did to you?" he wonders, smirking as my blush reddens further.

"I wouldn't call that 'making love'. You _fucked _me."

"And _you _liked it," he says, daring me to say otherwise.

I shrug again, looking down. He chuckles.

"You'll have to come watch my shows more often..."

My eyes flash up to his. "If this is going to happen every time I come to a concert, then I'm not missing any."

"If by 'this', you mean incredibly hot sex in my dressing room afterwards... Then, yes. And that's a promise."

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**This took me all day to write and my back is sore from sitting in the same position for so long and I need a cold shower because writing smut does that to you but its alllll worth it for you guys.**

**Thank you for reading and I hope I have succeeded in turning you on xo**


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